


History Obliterates

by allonsy_gabriel



Series: The Other 51 [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, Hurricane Alexander, Hurt/Comfort, I swear, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Poor Burr, This Is Not Hamburr, Warning: Potentially Pretentious Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsy_gabriel/pseuds/allonsy_gabriel
Summary: Alexander was fifteen when the memories had started. They’d been fragmented at first. Looking out over an island that normally would’ve been a paradise, but had been razed by a storm. A burning ship, barely making it to the harbor. Gunshots and cannons, dirt and carnage flying through the air, the smell of death. The plagued his dreams for nights, too sharp and realistic to be anything other than memories.





	History Obliterates

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work within this fandom. It is also my first entry for the Hamilton Other 51 challenge, and is part of a series. Enjoy!
> 
> All rights go to their respective owners.

Alexander was fifteen when the memories had started. They’d been fragmented at first. Looking out over an island that normally would’ve been a paradise, but had been razed by a storm. A burning ship, barely making it to the harbor. Gunshots and cannons, dirt and carnage flying through the air, the smell of death. The plagued his dreams for nights, too sharp and realistic to be anything other than memories.

He asked his mother about it first, and she was the person to tell him about reincarnation. A soul from another time, living in a new body. It wasn’t something often talked about because while it was a scientifically proven phenomenon, it was so rare that few people really believed in it.

Four months later, Alexander watched as his mother was shot by a balding, shaking man who had cried as blood poured from Alex’s mother’s wound. “I never meant to shoot, I swear, I never meant to, it was an accident, it was an  _ accident _ ,” he muttered before picking up the purse he’d originally cornered them for and fled. 

Alexander could do naught but stare as his mother gasped for breath, the bullet lodged above her hip bleeding red onto the asphalt. Suddenly he felt as if he was being torn in two, between the teenage boy holding onto his mom and a broken man who’d seen too many horrors in his life. The world spun and tilted as Alexander’s head pounded and he lost his lunch on the pavement.

Alexander. Alexander Hayley. Alexander Hamilton. A fifteen year old kid, who, yeah, was pretty good at math and liked writing, but was ultimately more interested in playing piano and computer games, and one of the fucking Founding Fathers, framer of the Actual Real Life United States Constitution, first Secretary of the Treasury, and a Major General of the Continental Army, and somehow these two were the same person. There was no differentiating between the two. He was Hamilton just as much as he was Hayley, the two blended together seamlessly.

And even as his mind raced through these new memories, he clutched his mother closer to his chest and sobbed.

Orphaned once, orphaned twice. Bile rose in Alexander’s throat. History repeats itself indeed.

OoOoO

That had been three years ago. Now, Alexander was on his way to NYU at the top of his class. He’d conquered circumstances before, he’d do it again. It was who he was, it was in his blood.

His mother--this time around--had immigrated to America from Nicaragua when she was 21. When she arrived in the US, she made fast friends with William Hayley, a coworker at the small cafe she worked at in Austin. They’d married and soon had Alex, but William had been in a car accident when Alexander was four.

Life, since his mother had died, hadn’t been kind to Alex. He’d been through more foster homes than he could count (Not really. There’d been 12.). He’d seen the worst of humanity--men who cornered him and beat him to a bloody pulp as he struggled to fight back, men who put their hands where they should  _ never _ go. Yet here he was. New York University, on a full scholarship.

He had a second chance. A new start. And damn it all, he was  _ not _ throwing it away.

OoOoO

Alex stuffed his pen behind his ear and pulled on the strap of his satchel. He’d already taken his things, few as they were, up to his dorm. His roommate hadn’t been in yet, but that was fine by Alexander. It gave him time to situate his belongings, and he’d gotten the first choice of beds.

It was a week before classes actually, but Alexander had wanted to get there as soon as possible to figure things out and find his way around campus, or more accurately, find the coffee shops closest to his dorm room.

He’d already located a Starbucks, but it would a cold day in hell when Alexander willingly bought Starbucks coffee. Lucky for him, there was, apparently, a little shop right off campus, and as Alex looked around for Cool Beans, he couldn’t help but marvel at how much this city,  _ his city _ , had changed since he’d been there last.

He was home. After 18 years, he was home. It was different, the buildings taller, the roads filled with cars instead of carriages, but still  _ his _ .

Alexander stopped in front of Cool Beans and grinned. This, this was his kind of place. He pushed open the door and breathed in the scent of coffee and sugar. He ordered a black coffee in the largest size they offered and tucked himself into the booth at the back of the cafe. He was typing up the final draft of his essay on the impacts of rehabilitation of nonviolent drug offenders over incarcerating them when he was tapped on the shoulder.

“Yes? How may I help you?” he asked, turning to look up at the man.

“I was just wondering if you needed more coffee, sir,” the man replied, his tone making it clear that he was trying to be sincerely polite.

“Oh. Yes, please,” Alexander replied. This man seemed oddly familiar, but Alex was sure he’d never seen him before.

“Are you at NYU?” the man asked as he refilled Alex’s mug.

“Start next week, actually,” Alexander replied, narrowing his eyes at this man.

“Freshman?”

“You caught me.”

“Don’t worry, I’m in the same boat. Daniel Barnes, PoliSci major,” the man said, offering his hand. Alex shook it, still mulling over this Barnes.

“Alexander Hayley,” he replied, “Journalism and Economics, with a minor in Creative Writing.”

“Sweet Jesus, how insane are you?” Barnes asked.

“Very,” Alexander replied with a smile.

“So I assume I’ll see you around? You can’t do all that and not need constant caffeination,” Barnes commented.

“I’m sure this isn’t the last you’ll see of me, Daniel Barnes.”

OoOoO

It most definitely was not the last time Daniel Barnes saw Alexander Hayley. Turns out that they had US History together, and dear God almighty, Barnes hadn’t met anyone in this lifetime who could talk like Hayley.

Previous lifetime? Well. There was a certain other Alexander who’d once talked for six damn hours. That was hard to top.

But Daniel Aaron Barnes was doing his best to not think about that particular set of memories, especially ones to do with a certain Secretary of the Treasury, so he quickly changed mental tracks.

If someone didn’t shut Hayley up soon, Daniel was going to scream. This kid was fucking relentless. How could someone have that many opinions on something that had happened 200 years ago? Unless…

No. No. No more of that. Daniel wasn’t  _ that _ anymore. That was behind him, far, far behind.

OoOoO

Alexander had, of course, heard of Hamilton: an American Musical. There was no way he couldn’t have. It was everywhere. That didn’t mean he paid any attention to it. He knew how that story went, thanks. Plus, a rap musical? How the actual fuck could be good? 

So when Carter, his roommate and the only person Alex knew who could down a cup of coffee faster than himself, shook a pair of earbuds in his face and said he  _ had _ to listen to it, at least the first song, all Alexander did was roll his eyes.

“Alex, man, please? I know you’ll love it!” Carter said.

“If I listen will you let me finish this article?” Alexander asked.

“I will, I swear.”

And that’s how Alexander ending up binge listening to a broadway cast rap about his life. And then binge-watching a bootleg on YouTube. And then scrolling through Wikipedia pages at three in the morning.

In his defense, it was really good.

A few days later, neither Carter nor Alexander had a class at noon, and they found themselves at the Hamilton lottery.

It wasn’t like they were going to win, right? That was just math. The odds were  _ so, so _ against them. No way they’d get in.

He was right. They didn’t. He did.

“What the hell! I’m the one who showed it to you! I should get to go too!” Carter said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Can you pull, like, $800 out of your ass? And somehow get a ticket to a sold out show?” Alexander asked.

“You’re an ass.”

“Part of the charm.”

All jokes aside, Alex really would’ve loved it if Carter could come with him. God only knew how much emotional support he was going to need to get through this.

The show began at eight, which meant Alex was there at seven in his best coat and his hair brushed, for once.

This was fucking wild. Fucking. Wild.

Alexander knew it wasn’t 100% accurate, but damn, it was close. He watched as he met Aaron Burr and the rest of his old friends, Mulligan, Lafayette, Laurens. General Washington. Eliza, his Betsey. Angelica. Then Jefferson, and fuck, if Alexander was getting sentimental about  _ Jefferson _ , he had a problem. And Philip…

All of Alexander’s successes, all his failures, displayed on stage. There was no filter between them and him, not even the filter of dialect and time and music because damn Lin, he’d erased that too.

Alex didn’t notice he was crying until he felt the tear roll off his chin. He hadn’t realized how hard he was biting his lip until he tasted blood.

The curtain closed. The lights came up. Alexander was the last person to leave the theater.

OoOoO

Daniel was refilling the sugar jar when the bell above the door jingled. “A Double XL black, Hayley?” he asked without turning around. No one else came in at 5:12 in the morning.

Alexander nodded but did not smile.”Can we talk, Barnes?” he asked, and Daniel stiffened. Those words never proceeded anything good.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, Alexander?” he asked, pushing the coffee across the counter. Alex handed him a crumpled up five and gestured to the tip jar when Daniel offered him the change.

“Can we talk without you evading all my questions and avoiding anything with any semblance to an opinion?” Alexander asked.

“What do you want?”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Daniel balked, memories older than his body flashing before his eyes. “I do,” he said quietly.

“Are you…?” Alex asked.

“I don’t think that concerns you. At all,” Daniel said vehemently, turning away from Alexander. Trust this asshole to bring it up. He didn’t need this. He  _ didn’t _ . He wasn’t that man anymore. He wasn’t a murderer.

“Burr. Look at me,” Alex said, and Daniel crushed the styrofoam cup he was holding.

“Don’t  _ call _ me that,” he hissed.

“I’m not angry, Aaron. I just want to talk,” Alexander pushed.

“You always talk! You never know when to shut up! When to  _ stop _ !” Daniel--because he was  _ Daniel _ , god damn it, not Aaron--said.

“Burr, please,” Alex begged, “We’re the only two. It’s just us. There’s no one else who knows what we’re going through. We’re all we’ve got on this.”

“Maybe I don’t want this! Maybe I never wanted this! Maybe all I ever wanted was to be normal!” Daniel shouted, spinning around, “Ever since I was 12, Alexander. Twelve. I’ve known I was a murderer, a slanderer, a  _ coward _ . I want no part of it. Not again.”

Before Daniel knew what was happening, Alex had hoisted himself over the counter and pulled him into a hug. Alexander. His enemy, his friend, his rival, his biggest mistake.

“You can’t run from this, Burr. You don’t have to. I forgive you, Aaron. I get it. You don’t have to run,” the man said.

“How?” Daniel asked when Alexander finally pulled away.

“I’m just awesome like that,” Alex said with a shrug, and Daniel rolled his eyes. Of course, he would say something like that. How very  _ Alexander _ .

“Thank you, Alex,” Daniel said, “Really. You don’t understand.”

“Actually, I think I’m the only person who  _ does _ understand,” Alex replied with a grin, “Hey Barnes?”

“Yes?”

“Well, uh, pardon me, but are you Aaron Burr, sir?”

“I take it back. You’re still terrible and I still hate you.”

Alexander just laughed, and Daniel couldn’t help but smile. Maybe one day, he would be Aaron Burr again, and maybe that was okay.


End file.
